Camouflage

Only if we knew
When we would die
We wouldn’t hit the bed
Every night
Hoping to wake up again
With a little guilt
In our heart
To the sound of chirping birds
Perched
High on the Peepul tree
We wouldn’t long for
The winter sun
To fall on your face
And make us feel charged
To defy
All mortal limitations
But with time
We have learnt the act
The act to camouflage
Ourselves
Of weakness
Of pain
And of death

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